


Cake Batter

by fanfictionandcats



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baking, F/M, Licking, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictionandcats/pseuds/fanfictionandcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ "She felt herself moving before she could think twice. She gripped his wrist, holding it up to eye-level. He turned to face her, eyebrows questioning. He was so cute when he did that.</p><p>“You’ve got something - “ Slowly, maintaining eye contact the whole time, she brought his hand up to her mouth and licked the batter off his knuckle." ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cake Batter

**Author's Note:**

> "That's where Cora is, right?" FINISHED AFTER 3X10 WITH ALL THE CORSAAC FEELINGS OH LORD
> 
> Dedicated to Ana because we were talking about this a while ago and she's the reason it spiraled into a full-fledged thing. And she's lovely. 
> 
> Oh, also, I started this pretty early on in the season, so I guess it's AU (meaning Isaac is living with Derek and Erica and Boyd are alive yay).

She sauntered into the loft, making sure to close and lock the door behind her, arms heavy from the grocery bags weighing her down. She’d been sighing internally the entire trip - but Derek refused to do any sort of normal-person shopping and Isaac had been busy lately. And there’s only so many days a person can go without proper nourishment.

She rounded the corner and stopped short near the refrigerator. Tilting her head, she admired the very firm ass that was bent over in front of her. Praise the genius who invented skinny jeans.

Isaac straightened up, picking up the timer that had fell from the countertop.

He turned slowly, obviously sensing she was there, and she smirked, placing the grocery bags down on the opposite counter.

“Hey.” He mumbled. “Did you get eggs?”

She nodded, passing him the carton before starting to take out the other contents of the bag. He smiled crookedly in thanks, leaning back over the bowl of something to crack an egg on the side.

“What’re you making?”

He picked up a second egg, and cracked it evenly with his long, deft fingers. “Cake.”

She swallowed thickly, consciously bringing her heart rate down and forcing herself to look away from him.

“Uh, why?”

He shrugged. “Erica’s birthday is tomorrow.”

He picked up the whisk balanced precariously on the edge of the counter.

She’d always liked his hands.

Irritatingly so. They were _good_ hands. Masculine and large, with short clean nails probably recently cleaned of soil and leaves. Thick and obvious knuckles. They were relatively tanned and the pads of his fingertips soft. They looked like they would feel good running through her hair, stroking skin, his fingers digging into her upper thigh, shoving her underwear to the side, sliding up inside her -

Jesus.

So, he had nice hands. Nice hands that she couldn’t stop thinking about. Especially when he would bake. Like now.

She squared her shoulders, forcing herself to _stop_. They’d been flirting during training for about the last three weeks, but every time Derek would cough or growl or get a little too rough with him, he’d totally back off.

And she refused to continue on in this pathetic puppy-dogging after him. She wasn’t that weak. Right?

He put down the freshly-whipped batter, staring back at her over his shoulder, probably wondering why she was just standing there and not moving to unpack the rest of the groceries.

There was a long pause of his dark blue eyes on her. They were deep and heavy, made something underneath her skin bristle.

She felt herself moving before she could think twice. She gripped his wrist, holding it up to eye-level. He turned to face her, eyebrows questioning. He was so cute when he did that.

“You’ve got something - “ Slowly, maintaining eye contact the whole time, she brought his hand up to her mouth and licked the batter off his knuckle. She could barely stand the way his bones and skin felt under her tongue and against her lips.

She heard him inhale sharply, and watched his eyes glaze over as he watched her, tightening his jaw.

She was _affecting_ him. She loved it.

She leaned into him, smoothly switching their positions so she was closest to the bowl. She swiped her finger across the batter in the bowl, and held it up to her mouth. Her tongue darted out to curl around her finger as she smirked into his eyes. She licked it until it was clean and then dipped it back in again.

Yeah, yeah, unsanitary, but she really didn’t care about anything right now except the way he was looking at her. Like he wanted to _devour_ her. It made her knees weak.

In the time that took, he’d already stepped closer to her, body just barely touching hers.

She dragged her fingers along his jaw, her nails grazing the skin and letting a trail of sweet cake batter stay behind.

It was like every coherent rational thought had fallen right out of her head. She wasn’t sure she was even thinking at all, the only sense she had was one of pure appetite. For _him_.

She leaned in close, right hand holding the back of his neck to keep him in place, and experimentally swiped her tongue across the skin between the middle of his jaw and his ear.

He suddenly jerked towards her, his hand brushing against her hip. She felt herself gasp into his ear. They were still barely touching each other, but the tension between them was unbearable.

She languidly licked her way down, savoring the way his strong, angular jawline felt and the way his breathing would speed up when she increased pressure. When she nipped at the skin on his neck just beneath his jaw, he groaned deep in his throat, and his hand shot out to steady himself on the counter, just missing the bowl of batter.

Her mouth didn’t leave his skin until she reached the end of his chin, jumping down towards his neck. But his thumb and index finger caught her cheek, bringing her face back up to his. He paused inches from her lips, and then stepped back until his ass hit the edge of the table and his hand disappeared behind his back. When it reappeared, his fingers were all covered in cake batter.

He rubbed them against the base of her neck tentatively. He half-smirked, eyes saying, _My turn_.

His touch felt like it burned her skin, his hands so _big_ spanning across her upper body. She had to bite back a groan when his lips finally replaced hands, mouth hot and soft, and Jesus fucking Christ his _tongue_.

She pulled the thick straps of her tank top down and pushed the material down to her hips, breath catching in her throat when she saw the way his eyes widened and he licked his lips. She was left in just a simple black bra she hadn’t thought twice about after putting it on this morning.

Suddenly, he held the spoon above her, watching the batter slowly drip off the spoon and onto the skin of her collarbone, sliding down in between her breasts. It was a little cold, and jolting, but what actually made her shiver was when his mouth finally returned to her skin.

He lapped up the batter on her upper chest, pausing when he got down to her tits.

He looked up at her. “Is this ok?”

“ _Yes_.” She gasped. He smirked a little again and then continued his path, infuriatingly slow, his hair tickling her skin as an afterthought as he moved. His teeth caught the fabric of her bra, and she reached back impatiently, shrugging it off and down her shoulders, throwing it somewhere behind her.

And then his mouth was everywhere, taking her left nipple into his mouth while thumbing the other, and then alternated. His tongue lavished her body, like he had been thinking about doing this for a while and he was finally getting his chance, and he was savoring it.

It made everything inside her twist and squeeze, and she curls her fingers around the nape of his neck, folding into him.

He licked his way back up to her face. And then finally, finally he kissed her. And everything that made her want to be slow and lazy drained right out of her, and all she wanted was for him to slam her into a wall and give her bruises she’d have for days.

His mouth moving against hers made her tingle all over, to her fingertips and toes. He was kissing her like she was his salvation, like he needed her so desperately it was almost too much. She echoed his sentiments gladly, rubbing herself against him, making him stumble away from the kitchen and pull her with him.

His back hit something (she assumes it’s the wall) that makes him stop, her chest colliding with his. His teeth caught her bottom lip, but let go quickly due to the hurried and frantic nature of the kiss.

She dazedly realized that she was completely topless and he still had all his clothes on. This needed to be fixed.

She shucked up his shirt until it got stuck under his arms, and ran her fingers down his chest and his taut stomach. He pulled his shirt off over his head in a one-handed smooth motion, and she smiled against his lips in thanks as she ran her palm down over his belly button, stopping at his belt buckle.

Swiftly, she undid the buckle and shimmied his pants down his hips, taking a brief moment to admire the trail of soft brown hair from his disappearing down to the base of his cock.

She slid her hand down past the waistband of his boxers, fingers just barely touching his dick before he caught her wrist.

“Wait - Cora - what’s... what’re we doing?” He managed to force out.

She wrenched her wrist out of his grip, circling her fingers around his cock and starting to move, but achingly slowly.

She went up on her tip-toes, her mouth close to his ear, and said clearly, “I want you to fuck me.”

She heard him audibly gulp.

“What - what about Derek?” He said through gritted teeth.

She snorted. “You’re seriously bringing up _Derek_ right now?” She made another long, slow drag down his length from base to tip. “What about him?”

His eyes were shut tightly now, his fists balled up, fighting the urge to touch her.

“He’d fucking kill me if he found out.”

“I’m not going to tell him.” She circled her thumb around his tip, “Are you?”

“No, no, fuck - “ His words dissolved into a low, throaty groan as she went a little faster, other hand moving to cup his balls. “ _Fuck_.”

She moved to get onto her knees to suck him off, but he grabbed her forearms and stopped her.

“Stop, wait.”

“What _now_?” She said impatiently, pressing her mouth to the front of his boxers, which (to her pleasure) were tenting obviously.

He gulped again, pulled her up back onto her feet, and clumsily half-lead and half-pushed her over onto the couch in the living room. She fell back on it, and he climbed on top of her, lips rough and demanding.

His hands settled on her hips and squeezed the flesh possessively, and rutted into her, his hard length pressing against her core and making her gasp, gripping his shoulders. She bit back keening, needy noises rising in her throat.

“Do you have something?” She asked him breathlessly.

“Y-yeah, just hold on.”

And then his heat and pressure was gone and she was so cold, and fucking aching for him and he was taking too long. She kicked off her jeans and her panties, touching herself to try to relieve the unbearable need to have him inside her. She was already alarmingly wet, and as her thumb circles her clit she couldn’t hold in the ragged moan that escaped her mouth.

“Can’t believe you got started without me.” And he was suddenly back, replacing her fingers with his. His thumb pressed against her swollen clit too gently, and her hips jerked up in an attempt for _more_. He obliged, sped up, and after a minute or so she stopped him.

She meant to say _put it in me_ , or _do it_ , or at least something along those lines.

Instead, what came out was, “I need you.”

She froze for a second, shocked at the the awkward intimacy of that accidental confession. But the moment passed quickly, and he didn’t seem to notice the choice of words. His cock brushed against the soft flesh of her inner thigh and she watched his breath catch.

Though she wasn’t by any means a virgin, it had been a while, and he stretched her. There was a twinge of pain at first when he slid up to the hilt, and he paused.

“Are you okay?” He asked, eyes suddenly wide and worried, looking remarkably innocent even with his cock inside her.

There was a pause before she nodded slowly, and did a half-roll of her hips to spur him on. He took the hint, pulling back out and pushing in again.

He picked up a slow rhythm, dipping his head briefly to suck on her jaw again. She rolled her hips up to meet his. He steadied himself with one hand and used the other to cup her breast, teasing her nipples between his fingers and she felt like she was going to explode.

“ _Fuck_ , Cora, you - shit, you feel so fucking good, you - gorgeous, you’re - “

His strokes were long and slow, pushing her to lust-filled anguish. She couldn’t take it - when he tried to pull out again, her hand pressed against his lower back, keeping him inside her, and she grunted, “Faster.”

He nodded jerkily, switching to fast and shallow thrusts, and she shut her eyes so forcefully she was seeing stars. The only sound in the loft was Isaac’s incoherent muttering and shouts, accompanied by Cora’s involuntary moans and sighs.

Her head felt light and her body was tensing up in anticipation.

She looked up to his face. Beads of sweat lined his forehead, one curl of hair sticking to his left temple, tough chest heaving as he slammed into her. His scent was all around her, all over her, his fingertips digging into her side, cock inside her, it was too much.

She came hard, open-mouthed and sweaty, nails ripping through the skin of his shoulders. It only took him two more thrusts to follow her, with a hoarse shout, and he collapsed on top of her.

She felt him kiss the skin behind her ear. Her eyelids were heavy. She blinked a few times to try to keep them open but she couldn’t, and finally just let them close.

 

☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯☯

  
  


When she opened her eyes again, the midday bright sunlight coming through the huge windows had changed to a late-afternoon orange.

There was a naked body against her back, and an arm thrown over her stomach.

And through her post-nap (and post-coital) stupor, she realized where she was.

She found it almost unbelievable that she actually managed to fall asleep completely naked in the middle of the loft, where any one of the pack could pop in at any time.

Her stomach rumbled. 

She definitely wanted to put some clothes on. She would rather avoid Peter catch an eyeful of her naked-napping with Isaac.

And then maybe eat a sandwich.

Luckily, Isaac was between the couch back and her, so there was an abstract chance she could sneak away and skip an awkward “hey, we just had sex!” talk.

Or, even if she couldn’t, it would be much more comfortable to have that talk wearing something, at least.

So she gently took his forearm and moved it off her, dually sliding off the couch onto the floor. She cautiously stood up, and took a step away from the couch.

She felt a smile bloom on her face despite herself when she looked down at him. He was completely out, mouth slackly half-open, cheek squashed against the couch pillow that had been under her head.

She snuck back into her room, her muscles aching pleasantly as she walked. She grabbed a black tank top and tugging it over her bare chest, and pulls on a different pair of panties and jeans (she wasn’t exactly where she’d thrown her original pair she’d put on this morning).

She ran a hand through her hair idly, staring down at the floor and wondering what she should do.

Eventually, she decided that simply _leaving_ was crueller than she could bring herself to be (though she did impulsively snort at the thought of the pack walking in and finding Isaac buck naked and passed out on the couch).

She squared her shoulders. _Don’t be a coward. Everything’s fine._

Closing the door behind her, she ventured into the hallway. Half-way back to the main room, she remembered that Isaac would still be naked, even though she was clothed.

After the two-minute long internal argument, she finally bit the bullet and crept into his room, grabbing the first shirt and pair of sweatpants she could find, and leaving as quickly as she could.

When she got back to the main room, he was awake, leaning over the couch back and smiling at her.

She silently threw the pants and shirt at his face, shoving down the uncontrollable urge to grin back at him. He caught the clothes in one hand.

“Thanks.”

His voice was higher during sex. She balked at this recognition, and turned her back to hide the blush probably tugging at her cheeks. She side-eyed the groceries as she moved into the kitchen.

“You’re welcome.”

The bowl of batter sat on the floor, turned on it’s side and spilling out. She regarded it with a dazed sort of acceptance. 

“So, uh, you wanna go out sometime?” He asked evenly, pulling the t-shirt over his head. “Like... as a date?”

The blatant objectification of admiring his ass when he bent over was familiar. Comfortable. Even the fucking, she could deal with. But this? _Dating_? This was unknown territory.

Her shoulders raised, she turned to tell him so.

But then she looked at him. And she felt herself relax. She smiled.

“Sure.”


End file.
